


Feliz Navidad

by gottabelarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Crush, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Pining Harry, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:39:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gottabelarry/pseuds/gottabelarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Harry may or may not have a slight (major) crush on his big sister’s friend, Louis, and comes up with a (not so great) plan to try and get a kiss from him this Christmas season.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <b>Or that one where a sixteen year old Harry hangs a ton of mistletoes everywhere and it all kind of backfires, and Louis is just oblivious.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Feliz Navidad

**Author's Note:**

> **Hii! So I was supposed to be writing up Chapter two of HIWIWY but I was in a real Christmassy mood and had to write this! I hope you guys enjoy it, and that you have a safe Merry Christmas :)**

, _“Mum, can Louis stay for Dinner tonight?”_ Harry’s older sister Gemma calls as she takes off her winter coat and places it on the coat rack beside their frosty covered front door.

Harry watches as the nineteen year old shakes some flakes of snow out of her long dark hair from his seat at the kitchen bench where he’d been in the process of helping his mum string small golden pieces of popcorn onto string garlands for the Christmas tree. To this day he still doesn’t know why they put popcorn of all things on their Christmas tree, because popcorn is for eating, but his mum just laughs and ruffles his curls with a _“Because it’s family tradition, Love,”_ as an explanation.

He doesn’t mind the job though, and sneaks a few pieces of the golden popcorn into his mouth when his mum turns to boil the kettle for some hot cocoa, “Of course he can; I just put on the potatoes so it shouldn’t be long,”

The radio hums old Christmas tunes quietly from the living room along with the crackling of the fireplace, and the fourteen year old silently watches the snow fall lightly outside of the window as his sister shuts the front door with a squeak, only now realising that another person is by her side.

Harry blushes crimson as he realises its Louis – one of Gemma’s school friends, taking off his own coat beside his sister, and Harry just wants to punch himself in the face because does he _always_ have to blush around the older boy. And Harry’s quite honestly surprised that Louis doesn’t think he’s an absolute creep with his constant blushing and staring, and basically _fonding_ over every single thing the older boy does. That or he does think he’s some lovesick teenager with a stupid crush but is too nice to embarrass the younger boy or say anything about it – which is probably accurate because Louis is always really lovely to him is the thing, not a bad bone in his body – and Harry kind of thinks he may be a little bit in love with him.

He’s in the middle of comparing the older boy’s smile to the sun when he accidently pokes the needle he’d been threading with popcorn into his finger and he squeaks in pain, and then his cheeks tint an even pinker shade as he realises that Louis’ is watching on in amusement, his bright blue eyes shining from the flickering lights overhead.

“You alright, H?” His mother asks, a sly grin upon her lips as she takes the needle and thread from his hands, noting the blush on his cheeks. She slides a mug of steaming hot cocoa across to him, and offers two more steaming mugs to Louis and Gemma who gratefully take them with murmured thanks.

“Uh – yeah, fine, just clumsy,” Stumbles from his lips as he quickly forces his nose down into the frothy deliciousness sitting in the mug, willing away the blush on his cheeks and the amused eyes watching him. Stupid Crush. Stupid Louis.

His mum offers him a knowing look and starts working on Harry’s unfinished popcorn garland as she turns to the other two teenagers whom somehow took a seat across at the bench across from Harry without him even realising.

“Have you got anything planned for Christmas Eve, Louis?” His mother queries gently, her voice warm and soothing like the hot cocoa their drinking, and Harry glances up from his mug to watch Louis’ eyes travel from him to his mother in kind interest. The older boy runs a hand through his wispy brown hair, pushing his mussed up fringe to the side and shrugs slightly, “Not sure, I don’t think Mum’s planned anything as of yet,” he offered in response. His voice is soft and light and Harry kind of just wants to crawl up under a blanket and listen to him talk for the rest of the snowy evening.

His mother nods, and then smiles brightly, “I should call her and see if she wants to have the family over here for a roast!”

“Are you sure? That’s a lot of mouths to feed,” Louis hesitates, and Anne shakes her head, waving off the boys concern, “Of course not; we’ll all put in some dishes and make a night of it. It’ll be brilliant!”

Louis cracks a smile (like the freaking sun, because he’s _Louis_ for goodness sake– and God, Harry _really_ needs to get a grip). “I’m sure she’d love that, the twins’ll be ecstatic, they love coming here; I think they just love playing with Harry’s curls though, to be honest,” He jokes, eyes bright as he glances at the younger boy across from him.

That doesn’t help the still present blush on the young boy’s cheeks, and Harry just laughs along with the others because Louis will be the death of him, what with his tanned delicate features, sweet laugh and bright eyes, and well, Harry is hopelessly, and positively screwed.

 

Harry has a plan. It’s admittedly not a great plan, but a plan nonetheless.

He stumbles upon the idea as him and Gemma are placing the last of the decorations on the large Christmas tree in the living room, Michael Buble is playing from the radio and the snow is falling a lot heavier than the day before, but the house is a pleasant warmth from the crackling fire.

It’s just the two of them at home, Anne away on her last shift at work before the Christmas break and his step dad travelling home from a business trip. The two siblings had made an afternoon of it, laughing at the home-made decorations they found in boxes from their childhood, and singing along loudly to Christmas songs.

The idea doesn’t spring in to his mind until he’d reaching in to the box of mismatched Christmas tree decorations and his fingers grab onto something foreign feeling, and his eyebrows furrow as he pulls it out and the mess of green and red falls onto the carpeted floor by his feet.

“Hey, there’s the Mistletoe! I knew we had it somewhere, good job H!” Gemma cheers excitedly as she bends to pick it up, and Harry laughs at his sister’s excitement, shaking his head as he plops back onto the cream lounge chair, his long legs gracelessly falling with him.

Gemma turns to him and puts a hand on her hip, holding the mistletoe in her other hand, “Come on; Show some enthusiasm Harry, Christmas just isn’t the same without a Mistletoe!” She exclaims, and Harry pokes her stocking covered leg with his socked feet as he laughs. “How could I forget the Mistletoe?” He asks dramatically, sighing loudly as he slaps his forehead.

Gemma rolls her green eyes and Harry chuckles as she throws the sprig of Mistletoe at him and orders him to find somewhere to hang it up as she goes back to putting the last of the tinsel on the glowing Christmas tree. He turns the fake plant around in his hands, listening to his sister singing away to Mariah Carey’s _all I want for Christmas is you_ , amused by how some small plant could cause so much drama at a time like Christmas. On many occasions he’d seen people get caught out underneath one, and most of the time whoever it was would just laugh and comply with tradition; placing a kiss on whomever they were caught under it with, but he could recall a few humorous times when it didn’t go quite as tradition demanded. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately – he’s not quite sure; though he’d like to think he’d been fortunate enough not to have had to share a kiss under the mistletoe. Knowing him he’d likely end up head-butting them in awkward surprise, or would blush so bad his face would match that of a tomato and he’d die of humiliation. The thought makes him grimace.

Though he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t dreamt about kissing a certain someone under the mistletoe, and it’s pathetic really, because he’s sixteen and the last thing he should be thinking about is kissing some boy he’s been crushing on since he was basically in diapers under some stupid fake plant (and _is a mistletoe even a plant?_ ). But he can’t seem to stop his mind from wandering into dangerous territory; where there’s ocean-like blue eyes staring into his soul, and he’s running his fingers through short soft brown hair, watching Louis’ cheeks tinted pink from the cold snow, and his warm breath against his own lips– and _Get a grip Harry, for goodness sake!_

He stares at the Mistletoe, hoping it will give him the answer to all his problems, maybe even the meaning of life and why he was blessed with feelings for a boy that probably only thinks of him as his friends awestruck little brother. But the mistletoe offers nothing, and Harry is really starting to think he’s going crazy because now he’s hoping a fake plant is going to help win over the heart of a boy that (probably) doesn’t even care about his existence, let alone a stupid little crush – but then he has a moment of sheer genius. Louis would _have_ to kiss him if they got caught out under mistletoe. (Unless the older boy made a joke of it and laughed it off, turning the whole thing into a really awkward situation and leading to Harry dying of embarrassment yet again –.) But Harry was an optimist and looking at the situation in positive light put him at little more ease with the idea. The plan was full-proof, and the sixteen year old tries to suppress a grin at his cleverness.

 

As it so happened; the plan wasn’t as full proof as he had planned.

He’d gone ahead and bought a few more mistletoes (only three more to be exact, he didn’t want to make it _too_ obvious), and had strategically hung them around the house; One in the hallway leading from the dining room to the kitchen, one on the front porch, another out on the back porch, and one right in the front hall near the front door. The sixteen year old figured that with that many mistletoes hanging around his house he’d be sure to get a kiss, and if not than he must just have really bad luck. The teasing from his sister had begun almost immediately once he’d hung up the final one in the front hall, poking his reddened cheeks, and cooing over her little brothers mystery crush. His mother on the other hand seemed to have already caught on, but left Harry to believe she didn’t know – bless her soul. That didn’t stop the knowing smile from gracing upon her lips as her son dusted off his hand on his jeans, proudly looking up at the final green mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, red berries bright in contrast to its green leaves. His eyes were wide and bright green, shining almost in the prospect of finally gaining the older boys attention. And as much as she wanted to intervene, help her youngest and only son, she knew it would only embarrass the boy; she could only hope Louis would be smart.

Harry doesn’t realise what a stupid, _stupid_ plan it was until two days later when Louis is over, along with a few of Harry’s best mates; Niall, Zayn and Liam, all watching movies. The five of them get along like a house on fire, or maybe that’s not the saying; he’s not quite sure. And even though Louis’ a few years older than them, they all get along, and that may or may not have to do with Louis always acting like a big kid trapped in an older person’s body. But their having a ball is the thing; laughing and goofing around while they play a little bit of FIFA on the play station, basking in the warmth of the living room compared to the cold and snowy weather outside.

And Harry may or may not be watching Louis fondly every now and again whenever the older boy scores a goal, and gets up cheering loudly and giving Niall a fist-bump. And if Liam, the most observant of the five them, notices the younger boy’s eyes always wandering over to the older boy, laughing at everything Louis says and just overall heart-eyeing over every single thing he does; then Liam makes no comment.

It’s when Harry is following a loud and excited Niall back into the living room after both retrieving more snacks for the five of them does his plan really backfire for the first time. And looking back Harry really things he ought to have put a bit more thought into his grand plan, because as he’s juggling a few cans and a bowl of chips in his hands while trailing behind a skipping Niall – and he can’t really blame Niall, because the blonde always seems to be full of energy and bouncing or skipping around everywhere – the blonde all of a sudden trips over through the door way – how he manages that Harry has no idea – and tumbles to the floor, packet of chips and popcorn flying everywhere.

Harry is one step behind him, and trips over the blonde not a second later with a squeak of _“Niall!”_ As more popcorn goes flying everywhere. The three boys whom are still sitting in the living room heads all turn at all the commotion and soon their all cracking up in loud laughter, cacking over nothing in particular. It’s like a chain reaction, and even though Harry’s a little bit embarrassed – because he just fell on his bum, in front of Louis for goodness sake! – he joins in slowly, laughter slipping from between his pink lips as he brushes off the popcorn from himself and slowly gets up, offering a hand to the cackling blonde at his feet. And it’s really not that funny, but somehow it is.

Niall gratefully accepts his hand, and jumps back up to his feet, and its then that his friends start catcalling and whistling. It takes longer than it should for Harry to catch on, and when he glances up to see the mistletoe in the hallway swinging from the ceiling he wants to punch himself because _dammit this wasn’t supposed to go down like this!_

Niall’s cheeks are already red from laughing so hard, and he doesn’t seem at all fazed about being under the mistletoe with Harry. “Give’m a kiss Ni,” Zayn jokes from his seat on one of the lounge chairs, a teasing tone to his voice, and Harry really just wants this whole thing to be over with, and fast, not that he has anything against Niall – but _Louis Louis Louis_ , is all his brain can seem to think right about now (which isn’t much different to normal really.)

Without hesitation Niall leans forward and quickly bumps his lips against a stunned Harry’s, and within seconds it’s over, and he’s pulling away, laughing loudly at the younger boy’s expression. The whistling and catcalling continues from their friends, and Harry just stands there completely shellshocked.

“Your face mate!” Niall cries with laughter, “Should have seen it!” and before Harry can say anything his friend slaps him on the back, picks up the bowl from the floor, shoves a mouthful of popcorn and cackles his way back to the couch.

And if Louis doesn’t seem to be laughing as loudly with the others, and seems to give Niall an odd look as he pulls a startled Harry to snuggle up right in his side, then Harry tries not to think it’s because the older boy is jealous. Because that’s just ridiculous.

 

After that Harry’s not so confident with his grand plan, but he reminds himself to stay positive with only three days till Christmas and still determined to get his Christmas kiss from a still completely oblivious Louis.

 

Christmas Eve soon arrives and Harry is absolutely _not_ sulky.

It has nothing to do with the fact that even though there’s four mistletoes hanging around his house he’s only had one kiss so far, none of which were with a certain blue-eyed, feathery haired boy.

But that soon changes as his house fills with laughter and squeals of excitement upon the arrival of a snow covered Tomlinson family arrive at their door for Christmas dinner. Harry smiles though, because he really does love Louis’ little sisters, and even though he finds it really really hard not to just drag Louis under the stupid mistletoe, he laughs along as the twins run up to him and start playing with curls within minutes of arriving. And Louis watches with a fond smile as the younger boy kneels down and happily lets the two youngest Tomlinson’s play with his hair, while they excitedly tell him about their brand new puppy that’s come along with the family and yaps away in Lottie’s arms.

Dinner goes off without a hitch and everyone crowds around the Styles small dining table, laughing and telling tales of past Christmas from each family. And it’s perfect really, like a proper family Christmas filled with Love and happiness, and Harry thinks it may just be one of his favourite Christmas dinners ever, and from the looks of the smiling faces surrounding him, the other’s all think the same. Thoughts of the stupid mistletoe easily fade from the back of his mind with the warmth of Louis sitting next to him telling an animated story from his childhood, and smiling Harry’s favourite crinkly-eyed smile over at him every now and then. And he thinks that if every Christmas could be spent like this, both of their families all together, laughing and joking around, and with Louis by his side, then he wouldn’t need to make anymore Christmas wishes.

 

After dinner both families decide to go for a stroll to the Christmas fair at the park down the street much to the twin’s excitement. While everyone is putting on their winter coats that had been hanging on the many hooks near the front door, Harry is soon to realise that Fate either hates him or has a really bad sense of humour. Because while he’s hopping around trying to put one of he’s old and worn white converse, young Daisy holds up the small fluff ball that is Hercules (their new puppy), and grins a large toothy grin up at him and announces, “Harry you have to kiss Hercules because of the missiles toe!”

Louis’ four younger sister’s all giggle and cheer in agreement and Harry looks to Gemma and Louis for help, but his sister is just grinning at him cheekily, fully-amused with how his mighty old plan keeps panning out on him, and well Louis just looks really apologetic about his crazy sisters antics and sympathetic about Harry’s predicament.

Anne and Jay hide their chuckles behind their glove covered hands, and Jay even has the decency to turn to the curly haired boy and assure him that “You don’t have to Harry,” and then she turns to her pouting daughter, “And it’s Mistletoe Honey, not Missiles toe.”

“But it’s tradition Mum!” Daisy argues, and turns to lift Hercules up to Harry, and the puppy kind of just sits there, all wide eyed and more like a fluffy rat than dog, but Harry can’t say no to any of the Tomlinson pouts (never has in Louis’ case that is), so he leans down to place a kiss on the dog’s head because surely he’s not going to kiss an actual dog, but Daisy cheers triumphantly and surges forward with the puppy squirming in her hands and soon Harry’s got a face full of dog slobber.

“Daisy!” Her mother scolds, and Harry quickly scrubs his mouth with the end of his sweater, spitting out little bits of fur. But he can’t be mad, as much as he wants to be, because Daisy looks up at him innocently, “I’m sorry Harry,” before hugging his legs, squishing Hercules slightly in the process.

 

Harry has lost all hope in Christmas wishes by this point because not only has he had to kiss one of his best mates under the mistletoe, but he has now had to kiss a Dog under one too.

He sit’s dejectedly on a park bench quietly, not really feeling the hustle and bustle of excitement and Christmas joy surrounding him. The park is full of people, and theirs music flowing from just about everywhere. He should be over with his family, whom are having a spin at ice-skating on the frozen lake with other townsfolk. But he can’t bring himself to be happy at a time like this, and it sounds overly dramatic and it probably is, because it’s Christmas Eve and Louis still hasn’t kissed him. Life’s just isn’t fair. He sighs, a puff of air escaping his lips in the cold wintery night and scuffs his old converse together on the snow covered ground beneath his feet.

 

“A Flower for your thoughts?” a thick Spanish accent breaks him from his moody breakdown and jumps slightly when he notices an elderly woman standing in front of him, her heart shaped face soft and inviting and a single rose between her fingers, outstretched towards him in invitation.

“Isn’t it a _penny for your thoughts_?” Harry finds himself saying, watching the old woman carefully, and taking in the many layers of winter clothing engulfing her petite figure and her long black hair that cascades over her shoulder in tight ringlets.

The woman shrugs her hunched shoulders, and shoves the rose towards him anyways, dropping it into his lap before taking a seat next to him on the wooden bench. “You should be having fun, no? It is Christmas Hijo,” She muses.

“I know,” Harry sighs again, and he doesn’t even know who this woman is but he kind of just needs to get this out to someone, even if it is some Spanish stranger who gives out random roses and says things like ‘Flower for your thought’ – the whole situation is just weird, but then again nothing in Harry’s life as really been ordinary, so he just let’s it out. “But nothing I do is going to plan, and it’s Christmas Eve and he still doesn’t know – and god I’m so pathetic,” He all but word vomits and puts his head in his hands in defeat.

It’s silent beside him for a little while and Harry peaks out from behind his fingers to see the woman still sitting their silently, watching him as if waiting for him to say more.

“What should I do?” He finds himself asking complete stranger after a few moments of awkward silence, because she’s old and seems mysterious enough to maybe be wise, but to his surprise the woman just shrugs again.

The woman gets up then, seemingly happy with her work, even though she’s done little to help calm Harry’s inner-turmoil, and Harry frowns as she turns to him and smiles a toothless smile before saying “ _Dejar que el destino haga su trabajo_ ” then turning on her heel and hobbling away.

Harry wants to rip out his curls in frustration by this point because he doesn’t understand and it makes no sense whatsoever. This whole thing is a mess, and as he hears the band on the makeshift stage begin to strum the chords of yet another Christmas song Harry really just wants to go home and hide under his blankets because Christmas is almost here, and the only thing he wants and has always wanted was to be able to hold Louis’ hand and to call him his, and to be able to kiss him whenever he wants to, not just under some plant on Christmas because of tradition.

_“A donde sea que yo esté…”_

_“Tu corazón alcanzaré”_

_“Y una sonrisa en tu mirada pintaré”_

Harry glances up at the sound of the music coming from the band on the stage, the light strumming of the single guitar and the couple beginning to sing, and honestly – _more Spanish_ , he really wishes he’d spent a little more attention in Spanish at school.

He hears a familiar laugh from his side and startles slightly to find Louis standing next to him – and did he say that out loud?

“Yeah, you did, Loony,” Louis says fondly, cracking a smile, his blue eyes brighter than usual and his cheeks a flushed pink from the cool air around them. He’s engulfed by his winter jacket, the hood pulled up over his feathery fringe and Harry’s heart flutters involuntarily because he’s just so cute and adorable and he really just wants to kiss him.

Louis’ blue eyes meet his and he stares down at him fondly before he pulls one of his glove clad hands from out of his pockets, and offers it to the younger boy. Harry laughs, and blushes as he takes the older boys outstretched hand and gets to his feet, trying to ignore the stutter of his heart when he notices he’s almost a few inches taller than Louis. The world around them disappears momentarily and it’s just the two of them standing in a crowded Christmas fair, music playing around them and people laughing in high spirits, but all they have eyes for his each other in that moment.

He feels the warmth of Louis’ glove covered fingers entwine with his, locking together in a strong hold as the older boy continues to stare up at him thoughtfully.

_“No habrá distancia entre los dos”_

_“Al viento volaré mi voz”_

 

The couple on the stage continue to sing in perfect harmony together, their voices melting together in a beautiful harmony, and Harry can faintly recognise the woman’s thick Spanish accent but in that very moment he can’t bring himself to care because he’s to encompassed by _Louis_ – Louis’ shining eyes staring up at his, Louis’ hand interlocked with his, and Louis’ warm breath fanning against his lips.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” Louis whispers against the cool air separating the short distance between their lips, his warm mint breath fanning against Harry’s pump lips and the younger boy would have melted into a puddle on the snow if it hadn’t been for Louis’ free hand coming up and gently holding onto his waist.

 

“I really want you too,” Harry whispers in response, and it takes his breath away when Louis smiles shyly up at him, his blue eyes lighting up, and before he realises it their both gravitating towards each other and their lips meet. A spark runs up Harry’s spine and his eyelashes flutter as he closes his eyes, leaning into Louis and his warmth. He can feel the older boy’s heart beating rapidly against his, and it seems to quicken as he feels the older boy’s hand gently caress his waist, deepening the kiss slowly. It’s gently and everything Harry could ever dream of, and he’s almost afraid to pull away in case it is a dream. But then he can smell Louis’ cologne and his head feels like it’s spinning as Louis licks over his lips before he’s pulling away slowly, both of their eyelashes fluttering slowly as they blink dazedly at each other. There’s a bright flush upon Louis’ cheeks, and it’s not from the cold – and he’s smiling at him this beautiful bright and fond smile, his eyes twinkling in the flickering lights of the lamp posts. There’s something new in Louis’ eyes, or maybe it’s always been there but Harry was to in love with Louis to notice before now, but he can see it now, finally notices it. It takes his breath away.

 

His own smile only grows as Louis leans up to brush his nose against his in a Eskimo kiss and Harry giggles – he actually _giggles_ , and he wants to be embarrassed, but Louis’ smile only widens at the sound, and well.

_“Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad,_

_”Feliz Navidad, próspero año y felicidad”_

The band erupts into a sound of guitars and clapping and it’s a joyous sound as more people start singing along to the chorus, and Harry and Louis are completely oblivious to the festivities around them, too wrapped up in the warmth and feel of each other, in their own world of _HarryandLouis_. 

Louis draws back slightly to stare up into Harry’s eyes, reaching up to stroke a finger affectionately across the younger boys’ red cheek, “ _Feliz Navidad_ , Haz,” He says breathlessly, the sound of his voice, so quiet as if afraid to break their little bubble, and affectionate makes just about melt. And he may not know a lot of Spanish, but he knows what that means and he smiles shyly down at him, his heart beating rapidly beneath his chest as he takes in the boy before him, breathless and flushed and looking at _him_ like he’s the greatest thing ever.

“Feliz Navidad, Lou,” Her murmurs into the cold night air, fully aware that he probably is staring at Louis like he hung the moon and the stars, but he doesn’t care, because Louis is staring right back at him, smiling like the sun.

Without hesitation Harry leans forward and brushes his lips against Louis and is met with a soft sigh of contentment as Louis smiles against his own lips, and if this is what kissing Louis feels like that Harry wouldn’t mind kissing him for the rest of his life, if the butterflies in his stomach are anything to go by.

_“I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas,_

_“Celebremos juntos la vida”_

 

And if Anne, Jay and Gemma happen to glance over and find the two boys in a warm embrace a few minutes later, whispering into each other’s ears with blushes high on their cheeks, they just smile at each other knowingly and turn back to their steaming hot cocoa’s, humming along to the music and basking in the Magic of Love and Christmas.

_“I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas,  
from the bottom of my heart.”_

**Author's Note:**

> **There's probably a heap of errors, and I apologise for that, I'll go back and fix it all up later! And sorry if the Spanish isn't quite right, I kind of used Google translate lol :) Thanks for reading!**


End file.
